There's Magic In The Air
by Jazzyness
Summary: Triston has always been the "friend." Will Matilda overcome her personal doubts and see his real feelings for her?


There's Magic In The Air

Maybe Something More

**I'm writing a short intro to see what people think about this fanfiction take on one of the best movie of all time!**

He tapped his pencil in a repeated pattern on his blank notebook. A hand shot out in front of him to answer the complex math question the teacher was still writing on the board. He didn't even glance at the board, or the bewildered teacher. His whole world at the current moment was _her. _Her shiny black hair, her rapt attention to the lesson, and her pale hand writing at a hundred miles per hour across her paper. She was so absorbed in the class you would think she was a stranger to this planet just learning of their culture. Triston knew just the opposite was true. She most likely had already learned this years ago.

Having first spied her on a Tuesday in the library some years ago, he knew her intelligence was as sharp as their teachers nose. Their first encounter was one he remembered all to well. He blushed deeply from the memory. He had been sitting on the big, plush red chair in the children's section reading a large Dr. Seuss book.

It was unusual for him to go to the library on Tuesdays. On weekdays he liked to play catch with his father in the yard before he started work at night as a flight attendant. Sometimes they would sit on the grass and talk about where they would go when he finally became a pilot. Together they were the unstoppable adventurers. Only the brilliant sun and the morning bugs would witness as they ran around the imaginary plains of Africa, braced the chilling cold of the tundra, or explore some lost ruins in Europe. Triston had an imagination like a steam train and his father and the library were his main fuel.

He had just started _The Lorax_ when he heard the squeaky wheel of an old wagon. He had looked up and saw a dark head bobbing up and down moving through the isles. The squeaking stopping every now and then when she pull out a book or two. Finally Matilda came into view as she passed his row. Her quiet grace seemed out of place, as was the mountainous pile of books being pulled by an old, slightly chipping red wagon behind her. She was wearing a plain, dull yellow t-shirt under blue overalls. A dark blue ribbon winked among her dark brown hair.

She had casually stopped a few feet away from him to extract another book. Triston had leaned forward to get a better look of her. Unfortunately, the combined weight of his five-year-old self and the gigantic book was enough to tip the red chair over. He had dropped the book and leaned back to stop the pull of gravity, but it was to late. He fell to the ground, the chair falling on top of him. The armrest had landed painfully on his elbow and he was ashamed to feel his eyes filling with tears. He shut then tight to avoid crying. It was then that he heard the quiet steps coming toward him. He slowly opened his eyes to see the sad brown eyes of a girl his age. She held in her hands the book that had caused his fall. It had apparently slid to a stop near her feet. He had gotten up, taken the book, mumbled a thanks, and turned to make good his escape and hide his tearful face.

"There's nothing to be ashamed of about crying," she had said behind him. He stopped, but didn't turn around. Encouraged, she continued, "if people didn't cry during the bad times, then they couldn't laugh during the good times." At this he turned to look at her. Standing there among the hundreds of books, he couldn't help thinking how alone she looked. Aware of a tear on his cheek, Triston wiped his face with his sleeves.

"It's okay to cry? Even for boys?," he had questioned dumbly. She smiled kindly and nodded before turning to go. "Wait!" he had called desperately. Under her clever gaze he found himself suddenly nervous. "What's your name?," he said. She gave him a suspicious look and said nothing. "I'm Triston," he almost whispered. He looked to the ground. When she didn't say anything for several minutes he clung to the corners of his book and turned to flee.

When he was half way out of the children's section he heard her reply, "My name is Matilda."

That had been years ago, but from then on he had went to the library every Tuesday to talk to Matilda. Until the leaves started to fall and school started.

Triston could recall hours spend chatting away about his small Elementary school to Matilda. No matter how many times he told her about the messy colors covering the walls, or the laughing teachers, she never seemed to hear enough. She had endless questions, and was the perfect audience, looking at you and listening as if every word was pure gold. He loved the rare times he made her laugh. It was so sporadic you knew it was real. Out of nowhere she would burst out laughing, risking expulsion from the library, clutching her side and covering her mouth. It was like all of the happiness taken away from her at home was dying to be let out.

More often than not, they could be found facing the window and its busy sidewalk scene with their backs against the Science Fiction shelf. Triston always felt he learned more in those quiet hours talking with her than anywhere else. They talked of everything and nothing. From politics, to family, to hopes and dreams. They were inseparable friends. If one was sad, then the other was sad, if one was happy, the other was too. Always aware of his feelings Triston carefully avoided romantic topics. Nothing was worth their friendship.

Sighing with regret Trison was brought back to reality. It seemed he was spending more time thinking about the past than living in the present. He was painfully aware of the clock ticked away the last minutes of class. He carefully wrote down the problem on the board and vowed to work on it later. As the bell rang he couldn't help smiling. It was Tuesday, so later might have to wait.

**If I continue this story it will mostly be in Matilda's POV. I thought it would be interesting for people to see how Triston feels before I **_**really**_** begin the story. **


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